


The Heart Wants

by notallbees



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtesan Ferdinand von Aegir, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Prostitution, Retainer Swap, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Work, Slow Burn, implied Claude von Riegan/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: Hubert eyed the young man, nonplussed. He didn't appear to be armed—indeed, there were very few places for him to conceal a weapon given how short and revealing his chiton was—but Hubert did not intend to take any chances."What are you doing here?" he demanded."I—I am here to serve you, my lord." He smiled a very pretty smile. "I hope I may please you."A courtesan then, or someone posing as one. And doing it rather convincingly, from appearances alone. Hubert's lip curled at this transparent attempt to trick him into lowering his guard. "I regret to inform you that you have the wrong room," he said coolly.Hubert is unimpressed when his beloved king presents him with a gift, but Ferdinand proves just the companion he needs. (Retainer swap/canon divergence AU)
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 15
Kudos: 128





	The Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggie/gifts).



> happy birthday froggo!
> 
>   
> this fic's alternate summary: claude gets a puppy for his pet cat which goes about as well as you'd expect
> 
> also i wrote this pretty much in one horn-fuelled sitting. pls be gentle with me.

The first sign Hubert had that something was _wrong_ was when he reached his apartments and found that the warding on his door had been disturbed. Only one person had the necessary knowledge and ability to remove said warding, and yet Hubert had just come from an audience with Claude, so it couldn't be him that Hubert could sense waiting on the other side of the door. 

Gathering his magic about him, Hubert drew a dagger from his sleeve, and pushed open the door. 

A fire burned merrily in the grate, and the candles had been lit, despite Hubert leaving the place in darkness. 

"...Hello?" a voice called from within.

Hubert frowned. It was unlike a thief or assassin to light the place, let alone call out a greeting. Warily, he stepped inside. 

The room was not as sparse as he might have kept it by his own design; Claude had not involved himself directly in the decoration, but as was typical of him, had thrown money at the problem despite Hubert's protestations. The result was that the place was comfortably furnished—not ostentatious, to Hubert's relief—with several comfortable armchairs and chaises set around the place. On one of these reclined a young man, who was watching Hubert with a hopeful expression. 

Hubert eyed the young man, nonplussed. He didn't appear to be armed—indeed, there were very few places for him to conceal a weapon given how short and revealing his chiton was—but Hubert did not intend to take any chances. 

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I—I am here to serve you, my lord." He smiled a very pretty smile. "I hope I may please you."

A courtesan then, or someone posing as one. And doing it rather convincingly, from appearances alone. Hubert's lip curled at this transparent attempt to trick him into lowering his guard. "I regret to inform you that you have the wrong room," he said coolly. 

The man's hopeful expression fell. "Are you not Hubert von Vestra?" he asked, sitting upright. 

Hubert narrowed his eyes. "What is your name?"

"Ferdinand," the man said proudly. "Ferdinand von Aegir."

"Hm. And who do you work for, Ferdinand von Aegir?"

Ferdinand's delicate eyebrows knitted together. "Why...for you, of course, if you are Minister Vestra."

"On whose instruction?" Hubert asked suspiciously, still fingering the blade in his sleeve.

"The...the instruction of the king, sir," Ferdinand ventured, looking more bewildered by the moment. His formerly elegant repose had become awkward, and he sat up now, tugging his chiton down to cover his exposed thighs. "Perhaps—perhaps there has been some error…?"

"Yes," Hubert agreed with a humourless smile. "Perhaps." He gestured for the young man to rise. "Come with me."

Ferdinand didn't hesitate before obeying him. He stood and strode over to Hubert without any sign of fear. "How may I serve you my—"

"Just follow," Hubert said, giving him a cold look. "And for heaven's sake, do be quiet."

Biting his lip, Ferdinand nodded and accompanied Hubert from the room. There was no opportunity for Hubert to replace the usual wards with Ferdinand at his side, but he locked the door and took hold of Ferdinand's upper arm to march him along the halls to the king's apartments. They were, naturally, stopped at the door to that wing of the palace by the guards, but upon ascertaining that Hubert really was Hubert, by a magical means he had devised himself, waved them through. Unfortunately, although they maintained a moderate level of professionality, they were unable to hide their curious gazes in Ferdinand's direction.

Hubert could hardly blame them; Fódlani folk were rare in Almyra. Indeed, Hubert would be surprised if any other than himself had ever set foot in the palace. 

Annoyed as he was, Hubert didn't feel like waiting for permission to be seen, and strode past the second set of guards to enter Claude's rooms unannounced. Claude lay on his stomach upon the floor, half-dressed, surrounded by half-open books, his finger on an open page. It occurred to Hubert that with any other monarch he might have discovered some scene of debauchery or excess, while Claude's only excessive vice was the size of his library.

"Hubert," Claude said, blinking up at him. "Was there something else you needed to discuss?"

"This," Hubert said, propelling Ferdinand forward. The young man stood, uncowed, though he bowed his head in deference to Claude, looking uncertain about whether he ought to prostrate himself or not, given Claude's un-regal position. "Care to explain?"

Claude gave a huff of laughter, pushing himself to his knees, then getting lightly to his feet. "It's a gift, Hubert," he said, turning a warm smile on Ferdinand. "I hear he comes highly recommended."

Ferdinand put his shoulders back, clearly swelling with pride at the praise.

"You let him into my private apartments," Hubert said in an icy tone.

"Not into your study, or your bedroom," Claude countered, eyes sparkling as he met Hubert's furious gaze. "But forgive me the little prank, my friend, I couldn't resist."

Hubert clenched his teeth. "And what, may I ask, prompted such a generous act?"

Claude grinned. "Do I need a reason to be generous?"

"When it involves you making assumptions into my private affairs—"

"Oh, hush," Claude said affectionately, coming closer to him and reaching out to grasp Hubert's arms. He smiled up at him, unabashed by Hubert's seething annoyance. "You work too hard, that's all. I thought you might appreciate a little companionship. I've been busy of late, after all."

Hubert tensed at Claude's insinuation, and he couldn't help but notice the way Ferdinand's eyes widened over Claude's shoulder. "That does not mean—I am perfectly content to—" Hubert sighed, sagging a little. He continued in a softer tone. "You are quite, quite ridiculous, you know."

Claude grinned. "I'm aware." He leaned up and kissed Hubert softly. "He's harmless, I promise," he whispered, holding Hubert's gaze with his brilliant eyes. "Let him indulge you."

Hubert wrinkled his nose, but he saw that there was no use protesting any further. Wordless understanding passed between their eyes, and finally Hubert nodded and let Claude kiss him again. 

"I refuse to thank you for asserting your will without my consent," he murmured as they parted, his words making Claude laugh, "but I won't refuse your generosity."

Claude nodded. "Good." He glanced at Ferdinand, watching them anxiously, clearly bewildered by the exchange between them. "Perhaps we should let you get some rest tonight, Ferdinand. I'm sure Minister Vestra will have work for you tomorrow."

Ferdinand brightened. "I do hope so," he said, turning his sunny smile in Hubert's direction. "I should very much like to make myself useful. I have many talents which—"

"Yes," Hubert said sharply, resisting the urge to wince. "Well, tomorrow we can begin to explore those."

Ferdinand beamed at him. 

—

"...my lord."

Hubert didn't look up from his work. "What is it, Ferdinand?"

Ferdinand hesitated. "I don't mean to complain, it is just—I did not imagine this was the sort of work you would expect of me."

Reluctantly, Hubert raised his eyes to where Ferdinand was arranging books on a shelf. "And what did you imagine would happen instead?" he asked archly.

To his amusement, Ferdinand's face coloured. 

"How novel," Hubert observed, smiling faintly. "A whore that blushes."

"A courtesan," Ferdinand corrected in a sharp voice, frowning at him. "And I believe you know perfectly well what I was referring to," he continued tartly, "but if you wish me to elucidate, I'd be delighted to do so."

Hubert chuckled. "Perhaps once you've finished with that task."

With a huff, Ferdinand turned back to his work. Hubert watched him for several moments, admiring the way his delicate chiton rode up when he reached for the top shelf, revealing the tops of his thighs. 

—

"Hubert."

"No."

Claude chuckled. "Hubert."

Hubert heaved a sigh. 

"You can't ignore me forever," Claude murmured, stretching lazily in his seat.

Hubert said nothing.

After a moment, Claude stretched out a foot, nudging Hubert's shin with his bare toes. "I can be far more annoying than you can be patient," he said in a singsong voice.

"Try me," Hubert said, flashing him an ironic smile before going back to the report he was skimming. 

Claude grinned, clearly delighted by him playing along. "Word is," he murmured conspiratorially, leaning closer again, "that you haven't played with your new toy yet."

"Word from who?" Hubert asked tonelessly, mentally rifling through which servants Claude might have employed to spy on them. More than likely he was just guessing. 

"And you actually had him filing papers for you?"

Hubert clicked his tongue. "He was eager for useful employment. I gave him some."

"You and I both know that's not the kind of employment he was hoping for," Claude shot back. He softened, and rested his hand over Hubert's knee. "I joke about him being a plaything, but that is discourteous of me," he said softly. "Ferdinand is much more than that, you know. He's thoughtful and intelligent, and he's trained extensively in the art of companionship."

"Companionship," Hubert echoed with a disdainful snort. "If that's what you want to call it."

"Yes," Claude continued, ignoring his interruption. "He's not a hole for you to use. He's engaging and witty." He laughed. "And, admittedly, rather too forthright and opinionated for his own good, but I rather thought that might entertain you." Here Hubert finally looked up, and Claude met him with a warm smile, and a soft caress of his fingers against Hubert's cheek. "I know how much you enjoy a lively debate with someone you care for."

Hubert wrinkled his nose. "I do not _care_ for Ferdinand."

"But you could."

Hubert rolled his eyes. "You're just doing this because you feel guilty about Lorenz." 

He regretted the words the moment they were out, and although Claude's reaction wasn't obvious, Hubert knew him too well not to notice the way his eyes shuttered, his smile becoming sharper. 

"Is there some reason I ought to feel guilty?" Claude asked lightly.

"Of course not," Hubert snapped. He grimaced as Claude pulled away, and lifted his eyes reluctantly to find Claude's. "Forgive me. We owe each other nothing—"

"Nothing?" Claude watched him, eyes narrowed slightly. "Really, Hubert?"

Hubert looked away, clearing his throat softly. "We do not owe each other love."

"I should hope not," Claude replied, amusement warming his voice once more. "I should hate to think you love me out of duty."

"No," Hubert agreed, "not _entirely_ out of duty."

Claude laughed. He was still close enough for Hubert to lean over and kiss him, and he warred with himself for several moments before doing so. Claude caught his shoulders and kissed him back, making a soft, eager sound when Hubert dug his shaking hands into Claude's hair. Kissing him was a thrill, as ever, and Hubert clung to his king, hungry and eager for him.

"Hubert," Claude whispered, tongue flicking against his lips. His smile tasted sweet, and his hands were firm where they cupped Hubert's face. "Is this what you want?"

Hubert closed his eyes. He drew back an inch, and allowed Claude to press their foreheads together tightly. He could not have this; he knew he could not. They neither of them knew how to give themselves away truly. Claude's only hope of happiness was with someone else. 

"We are neither of us given to romance," he murmured, opening his eyes and drawing back. "It would be folly to try."

Claude's smile was sad. For a moment, Hubert saw the full range of his true emotions behind the careful mask, and then they were hidden again. "I know," he agreed, releasing Hubert slowly. He forced his smile to brighten. "Just do me one little favour. Give Ferdinand a try, alright? Challenge him to a game of chess. Ask him about his favourite book."

"Not everyone reads as voraciously as you," Hubert scolded, turning back to his report, and hoping the heat of his face wasn't as obvious as it felt. 

"Hubert," Claude said, with an odd note of pleading in his voice. "Just try."

Hubert glanced at him, and nodded. "I will. I promise."

—

"My favourite book?" Ferdinand asked, looking at him in surprise. 

Ferdinand was dressed in one of his typical outfits; a flattering chiton that displayed his arms and chest to great advantage, not to mention his plump thighs. His long, flame-coloured hair was gathered in a loose braid over one shoulder, which softened the appearance of his muscular form. It was not as though Hubert had failed to notice that Ferdinand was attractive, but he felt strangely aware that day of Ferdinand's supple limbs, the tempting peeks of bare, freckled flesh, the apparent softness of his pink mouth. 

"You do not care for reading?" Hubert concluded. "A pity, I—"

"Just a moment," Ferdinand interrupted. "I never said that. I like a great many books. Tell me, what topic should I choose? Fantastical narratives, or perhaps history or weaponry would be more proper?"

Hubert stared at him. "I—"

"I have read some rather fascinating tomes on spellwork and herblore too, though I know little of the crafts in practice." Here he paused, frowning. "Ah, or perhaps you meant works connected with my trade. There are some very interesting volumes upon the subject by—"

"I don't need the entire contents of the king's library," Hubert interrupted, flustered. "I merely wondered what interests you."

Ferdinand's eyes widened, a smile touching his face. "Ah! But that is a difficult question...perhaps I may pick three?"

The corner of Hubert's mouth twitched. "That would be acceptable."

They talked for some time on the subject. Ferdinand, it seemed, had a particular weakness for myth and fantasy, which he was clearly a little self-conscious about, but he also talked eagerly of his varied interests, and showed equal fervour in questioning Hubert about his own tastes.

"You know," Hubert said, evading as Ferdinand's questions became increasingly persistent, "I could arrange for you to access Claude's library, if you should like."

Ferdinand beamed at him. "Oh, truly? That would be marvellous! He would not mind?"

"He is...protective of his collection," Hubert allowed, smiling faintly, "but I do not think it would be an insurmountable problem."

"Wonderful!" Ferdinand said, positively glowing. After a moment he turned thoughtful, tilting his head to one side. "May I ask...why do you call the king Claude?"

Hubert winced, realising that he'd slipped up. "He was using that name when we met. I suppose...it is habit, nothing more."

"You are very close to him," Ferdinand observed.

Hubert looked at him sharply, but Ferdinand was watching him without guile, his pretty brown eyes warm and sympathetic. "I am his devoted servant," Hubert said, but the words felt hollow, and Ferdinand was still watching him, patient and expectant. "I care for him very deeply," Hubert admitted, glancing down at his hands. "I would give my life for him."

To his surprise, a warm hand covered his own. "He is very fortunate to have earned your trust," Ferdinand said softly, squeezing his hand.

Hubert raised his eyes. Ferdinand sat very close, his face warm and open, his touch comforting. Hubert licked his lips unconsciously, and Ferdinand's eyes narrowed a fraction, his head tilting nearer. 

"I—" Hubert said, snatching his hand away. "I must finish this report. You're dismissed, Ferdinand, thank you."

There was a brief flash of disappointment across Ferdinand's face, but then he nodded and rose elegantly. "Of course," he said. 

"And—" Hubert added as Ferdinand walked to the door. "Please do not speak of this to anyone."

Ferdinand smiled. "Anything you say to me is in the strictest confidence, my lord. Even the king could not compel me to betray you."

Hubert turned away rather than watch him leave, and couldn't help but wonder why he'd asked Ferdinand to keep his secret, rather than instructing him to do so. 

—

Several weeks passed without incident. Hubert, by concerted effort, was less abrasive toward Ferdinand, who responded with an irritating effusiveness that often drove Hubert to start arguments with him. Fortunately, Ferdinand had quickly lost his reverence when speaking to Hubert, and seemed to enjoy bickering with him, and so they had fallen into a comfortable pattern that seemed to suit them both. 

The peace was broken at last by the arrival of the Fódlan emissary. Hubert could sense Claude trying to seem unaffected as the hour of Lorenz's arrival drew near, a sight which tried his patience immensely. He was unable to excuse himself for the moment of their reunion, but at least the semi-public nature of the event meant that Claude and Lorenz were forced to restrain themselves until they were alone together. Small mercies. 

"Hubert, is something the matter?" Ferdinand asked him later that afternoon.

Hubert looked up from his work with a scowl. "Why should something be the matter?" he growled.

Ferdinand was unmoved by his annoyance. "You have started that letter over three times," he said evenly, "and I have never heard such foul language coming out of your mouth before."

"Ferdinand," Hubert said carefully, scrunching up his fourth sheet of parchment and tossing it aside, "in case it had escaped your notice, I don't keep you around to make idle observations about my emotional state. Now you either keep your opinions to yourself, or—"

"Then what _do_ you keep me around for?" Ferdinand demanded, jumping to his feet. "Just to fight with me? You don't need an overpaid whore just for _that_."

Hubert raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you some complaint about the way I use your services?"

"My _services_ ," Ferdinand spat, colour rising in his cheeks. "You wouldn't know what those were if you were slapped in the face with it!" he cried, stamping his foot. "You—you're like a cold, dead fish. I don't believe you've even an ounce of passion in you!"

His words, ridiculous as they were, struck some deep, terrible chord deep in Hubert's chest. He grew colder, straightening his shoulders, his face a mask. "You seem to have been overcome with your feelings," he said carefully. "I suggest you leave, and don't return until you have gathered yourself. Perhaps a fortnight or so will do it."

Ferdinand's face was almost as scarlet as his hair. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then either finding himself speechless, or thinking better or his words, he turned and marched out of the room. When he was gone, Hubert put his head in his hands, and didn't move for some time.

—

Hubert was walking in the gardens the following day. He couldn't stop turning over the disagreement with Ferdinand in his mind, feeling unusually troubled by it. Ferdinand's insults didn't much move him; he'd heard as much if not worse before, and he didn't disagree with the notion. The more he thought on it, however, the more he felt guilty for the way he'd kept Ferdinand heeled like a dog, refusing to let him fulfil almost any aspect of his purpose. Had someone tried to take Hubert's purpose from him, he would have been very angry indeed, and in that respect at least, he felt some sympathy for Ferdinand. 

Caught up in his own thoughts, Hubert didn't notice the murmur of low voices until it was too late. He rounded a corner, to a quiet bench overhung by rich-scented jasmine, and stopped short when he realised that it was occupied. 

Claude and Lorenz sat close together, their hands interlaced, their heads bent together while they talked softly. At first they did not notice him, and Hubert found that he could only stare, even as he wanted to turn away from the sight of Claude's longing gaze, the warmth with which Lorenz returned it. There had been rumours that Claude was courting the Fódlani emissary, perhaps even intending to marry him, but Hubert hadn't allowed himself to hear those rumours. Just as he'd ignored Claude's necessary dalliances with his concubines, the two children they had borne him to continue his family line. This was different however. Hubert knew Claude did not care for those women. But in the twenty or so years that they had been together, Hubert had never seen Claude look at someone the way he was looking at Lorenz. 

He staggered back and away, not seeing whether or not they noticed him in his haste to get away. Somehow he made his way to a stone pool at the other side of the gardens, where he fell to his knees, leaning over the water as his breaths came sharply. He tried to calm himself, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath, all too aware of his heart pounding in his ears, the sickness roiling in his chest.

Before he had collected himself, there was an urgent voice speaking over the rushing in his ears, and a firm hand between his shoulderblades. Hubert's panic spiked briefly, but then he saw the blaze of flame-coloured hair reflected in the water beside him, and he recognised Ferdinand's voice soothing him. Shame washed through him, and that combined with the slow, even movements of Ferdinand stroking his back to calm him. He sat back on his heels, feeling small and foolish. 

"Are you alright?" Ferdinand asked, urgency in his voice. "Hubert, are you—"

"I'm fine," Hubert said in a dull tone.

Ferdinand released a heavy rush of breath. "Thank the goddess. I was so worried when I saw you there, I thought—" He cut himself off, and Hubert raised his head curiously.

"You thought what?"

Ferdinand's cheeks warmed. "I...thought perhaps you were going to drown yourself."

Hubert stared at him a moment, then he began to laugh. 

Ferdinand looked startled. "Hubert!" 

But once he'd begun, he couldn't seem to stop. His shoulders shook, and he laughed until tears began to run down his face, while Ferdinand looked on with concern vivid in his dark eyes. Feeling the wetness on his cheeks, Hubert forced a deep breath, collecting himself with some effort. 

"My apologies," he said, shaking his head and dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. "What a thought—ha!" Seeing Ferdinand's bewildered look, he sighed. "I have no suicidal intentions, Ferdinand, though I appreciate your concern for me."

Ferdinand cleared his throat, sitting back a little. "I see. That's a relief." He hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. "Is there...forgive me for prying, but has something happened?" His soft eyebrows drew together. "Perhaps a relative…?"

Hubert gave a bark of humourless laughter. "I have no relatives I would mourn," he said, shaking his head. 

"Then—" Ferdinand began, and trailed off. Wordlessly, he took hold of Hubert's hands and lifted them to his face, kissing his knuckles softly.

"What're you doing?" Hubert murmured.

Ferdinand shook his head. He turned Hubert's hands over and kissed his palms, then raised their joined hands and pressed them against his cheeks for a moment.

Hubert watched him, speechless for once. 

"I know how you care for Claude," Ferdinand said softly. 

Indignation tore through Hubert, but burned out just as quickly, leaving him with his mouth hanging open uselessly. He snapped it shut, his shoulders sagging, and didn't protest when Ferdinand put his arms around him. He felt numb in the wake of releasing so much tightly-held feeling, and for once he allowed himself to be comforted, forgetting the argument of the previous day, forgetting even the all-consuming ache in his chest. 

—

Hubert didn't receive official confirmation that Claude and Lorenz had seen him in the gardens, but it was clear enough from the faintly embarrassed way Lorenz spoke to him after that, and the almost-imperceptible gentleness with which Claude handled him over the remainder of Lorenz's visit. He was grateful, at least, that Claude didn't try to discuss it with him any further. They had said all that could be said already.

Ferdinand offered him a stiff apology the day after consoling him in gardens, for the things he'd said the day before, and Hubert offered his own apology for his terseness. As to the other charge—that of neglecting Ferdinand's true purpose—Hubert felt the truth of it too keenly to know how to approach it. The part that struck him deepest was Ferdinand's accusation that he lacked passion, and in his darker moments he suspected this of being the true cause behind his and Claude's failure to fall in love with one another.

The initial agony of Claude and Lorenz's intimacy faded soon enough. Hubert was nothing if not pragmatic, and while the ache would endure, he knew that so would he. 

Hubert ventured out to the gardens again several weeks later, after taking care to ensure that Claude and Lorenz were occupied elsewhere. This time it was Ferdinand he discovered on a lonely bench, watching fish swim in a quiet pool. 

Ferdinand looked up at his approach, a warm smile breaking across his face. "Hubert!" he said, waving cheerfully. "Aren't these fish just charming?"

"Are they?" Hubert asked, coming over to investigate. He'd never taken much notice of the detail in the garden, only seen ingress and egress routes, the places where one might ambush an unsuspecting king, the secret greenhouses in which he grew poisonous plants. Joining Ferdinand on the bench, he looked down at the colourful shapes flickering beneath the water's surface with a faint smile. "I suppose they are quite pretty."

Ferdinand laughed softly. "If you were any other man, you'd take this opportunity to tell me how pretty I am too."

Hubert lifted his gaze, surprised somehow, though he knew that he shouldn't have been. "Well," he said at length. "I—"

"No, no," Ferdinand said quickly, interrupting him. He laughed again and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. "Please don't. It was only a joke. I know that you—" He paused, smiling down at the water. "Your heart belongs to another."

A brief silence fell between them. Hubert's heartbeat was loud in his ears. "You have a wretched habit of interrupting me," Hubert said quietly. "Did you know?"

Ferdinand glanced up at him, eyes widening. The lock of hair he'd tucked behind his ear slipped back again, brushing against his cheek. Hubert raised a shaking hand and tucked it back behind his ear, his thumb brushing the delicate shell of cartilage. 

"Hubert…" Ferdinand whispered, his voice very soft. 

"What I wanted to say," Hubert murmured, "is that I couldn't in good conscience call you 'pretty'." He paused just long enough for Ferdinand's brow to crease, indignation raising heat in his cheeks, before continuing, "You are, decidedly, the loveliest creature that I've ever seen."

Ferdinand stopped short, mouth open. "I—what?" he whispered.

Hubert swallowed thickly. "Far too lovely for someone like me."

"Hubert," Ferdinand said, accompanying his words with an awkward laugh. "I—"

"If you wish me to...find you a new home," Hubert began. He paused, swallowing again, his mouth suddenly dry. "Someone who will treat you as you deserve."

Ferdinand's expression turned fierce. "I have a better idea," he said crossly, and then he leaned in and kissed Hubert.

Hubert's eyes widened, his mouth frozen in shock, but as Ferdinand pressed against him with eager determination, Hubert found himself surrendering. He closed his eyes, and his mouth softened under Ferdinand's, and when Ferdinand reached to pull him closer, Hubert let out an embarrassingly desperate sound which Ferdinand swallowed hungrily. Ferdinand's mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue thrilling where it ran along Hubert's lower lip, and yet it lacked the urgency of his last kiss with Claude; instead it felt like an exploration, like the start of something new and wonderful. 

When they parted after a few minutes, they were both breathless, and Ferdinand's face was pleasantly flushed, his lips very red and wet. Hubert found it difficult to tear his eyes away from them. "I—I—"

"For once, words fail him," Ferdinand teased, drawing a fingertip along Hubert's jaw. He ran it down Hubert's throat, then over his chest. Hubert was painfully aware of Ferdinand's chiton riding up his thigh, barely covering his lap. "I can't heal a broken heart," Ferdinand murmured, the fingers of his other hand stroking through the hair at the nape of Hubert's neck, "but I can soothe the ache a little."

Hubert blinked, trying to maintain higher functions as Ferdinand's fingers reached the waistband of his trousers. "H-how might you—do such a thing—"

Ferdinand smiled. "Shall I give you a demonstration?" he murmured, his voice warm and teasing. 

Wordlessly, Hubert nodded. 

Without rushing, Ferdinand went to his knees, untying the waistband of Hubert's trousers with practiced ease, as though he did such a thing every day. Hubert thought of Ferdinand's _extensive training_ and wondered if it had included the particulars of expertly unfastening Almyran clothing. 

Such thoughts were driven from his mind when Ferdinand put his mouth to work, and Hubert reached for the arm of the bench to steady himself. "F-Ferdinand—" he groaned, intending to protest doing this in such a public space, but Ferdinand only glanced up at him and winked, before devoting himself to his work. 

Hubert had not lain with anyone in a very long time, and it took him an embarrassingly brief time to finish in Ferdinand's mouth. The sight of Ferdinand wiping his mouth on his wrist as he straightened up, glowing with the pride of a job well done, made Hubert feel slightly faint. 

"A little better?" Ferdinand prompted, beaming at him.

—

Lorenz returned to Fódlan several weeks later, shortly after the formal announcement of his engagement to Claude. Hubert was relieved to find that the news did not fill him with nausea as he had anticipated. The ache persisted, but he had succeeded in excising the worst of it, like a gangrenous limb, leaving behind only the pain of the amputation.

Ferdinand had applied himself with relish to the task of providing a balm for the wound, although Hubert had resisted any attempts to revisit their indiscretion in the gardens. If Ferdinand minded the rejection, he didn't show it, instead offering himself as a companion, and a worthy one at that. Hubert felt ashamed of his early dismissal of Ferdinand, realising that he was as Claude had promised—witty, charming, eager for debate—and, although Hubert still found it difficult to accept such attentions, relentlessly affectionate.

"You've grown used to him," Claude observed one day, offering the non sequitur as they were in the midst of reviewing trade reports. 

Hubert hummed. "Yes, I suppose one can get used to anything given enough time."

Claude laughed softly. "And I suppose that pretty mouth has nothing to do with it."

Hubert looked up sharply, eyes narrowed.

"Don't worry," Claude said, holding up his hands. "I haven't been spying on you. But your collar doesn't quite cover that bite mark."

Without thinking, Hubert slapped his hand to his neck. "I—" he began, and then scowled. "There is no such mark."

Claude's eyes sparkled. "Isn't there? And yet you thought there might be."

"What are you hoping I'll say?" Hubert groused. 

"I don't know," Claude said, propping his chin in his hand. "Nothing in particular. I'm just happy you two get along."

Hubert fixed him with a flat look. "Have I congratulated you on your engagement yet?"

Hurt flashed across Claude's face. "I don't believe so."

"Then congratulations. Lorenz must be a bigger fool than I thought him."

Claude winked. "That fool will be my Prince Consort fairly soon."

"Good, then I shall be able to tell him to his face."

"I'd better warn him," Claude said, looking pleased. 

A silence fell between them, and after a moment Hubert put down his quill with a sigh, and leaned back in his seat. "I don't know what to do about Ferdinand," he admitted quietly.

Claude leaned closer, the teasing slipping from his face. "What do you mean?"

Hubert grimaced. "I...care for him. I've never cared for anyone except—" He sighed and shook his head. "Not that it matters, his affections for me are bought."

"I highly doubt that," Claude said. "Ferdinand may be talented, but he's young, and—forgive me—has none of your mastery when it comes to shielding his true feelings. I'm sure that what you see in him does not come from duty."

Doubtful, Hubert shook his head, but Claude's words set a flame burning in the pit of his stomach. 

—

Hubert did not intend to act on Claude's words immediately. It would have been a reckless decision, to act without establishing Ferdinand's true feelings, yet the moment Ferdinand joined him in his rooms that evening, Hubert stood to greet him, taking Ferdinand in his arms and kissing him soundly. 

"Hubert…?" Ferdinand murmured, looking dazed as they broke apart.

Groaning softly, Hubert cupped his face and kissed him again, and again, and then he began to trail his lips down the side of Ferdinand's lovely neck, brushing his hair aside with one hand and chasing the freckled skin with his tongue. 

"O-oh, Hubert," Ferdinand sighed, clutching at his shoulders. "Oh…"

Hubert wrapped his shaking hands around Ferdinand's plump hips, squeezing affectionately, then he reached up and unpinned Ferdinand's chiton. "May I?" he murmured, his lips against Ferdinand's jaw, holding the twist of fabric in his hand.

"Oh please," Ferdinand said, nodding.

Heart racing, Hubert unfastened the belt that secured the fabric around Ferdinand's waist, and unwrapped him slowly, like a long-anticipated gift, tossing his clothing aside. Ferdinand stood, gloriously naked before him, completely unself-conscious. He watched Hubert with a soft smile, though his own chest rose and fell sharply too.

"Please," Ferdinand said again, imploring him with his eyes. "Please tell me that you're going to touch me this time."

Kissing him firmly, Hubert did just that, putting his hands back on Ferdinand's hips, slowly roaming over his skin. Ferdinand tangled his fingers in Hubert's hair, exploring his mouth with his tongue while Hubert's hands explored his naked body. Finally, Hubert kissed his way down Ferdinand's neck once more, and then lower, trailing his lips down as he went slowly to his knees. 

Ferdinand let out a gasp when he realised Hubert's intent, and his fingers tightened their grip in Hubert's hair as Hubert began to pleasure him clumsily. Ferdinand didn't seem to mind the inexpert treatment, and he spent almost as quickly as Hubert had done that time in the gardens, although he was polite enough to issue a warning first. Hubert clung to Ferdinand's trembling thighs as the other man spilled over the back of his tongue, swallowing his seed gratefully. Afterwards, Ferdinand half-fell to his knees, and kissed the taste of himself from Hubert's lips, clinging to him tightly.

"I won't leave you," Ferdinand whispered fervently against his lips, and again as he led Hubert to bed and began to show him more of what he knew, "I'm yours, I won't leave you."

As Hubert fell asleep much laer, sticky and sated, he began to believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees) | [my ferbert fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=33770848&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&fandom_id=23985107&user_id=notallbees)
> 
> yes i made hubert too soft what oF IT


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